Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
I'm enquirin on behalf of his soul
I'd be beholdin to ya all
For a lil' information, just a little indication

Just who will dig the hole?
When ya done ransackin' his room
Grabbin' any damn thing that shines
Throw the scraps down on the street

Like all his books and his notes
All his books and his notes and
All the junk that he wrote
Whole fuckin' lot right up in smoke

Well ain't there nothin' sacred anymore
Won't someone will build a box for Black Paul?
They're shootin' off his guns
And they're shootin' off their mouths

Saying "Fuck with us and die"
"Fuck with us and die"
(Let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)
"Cover that eye, cover that frozen eye"

Poor Paul

Blood-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall
Black-puppet, go to sleep, mama won't scold ya anymore

Armies of ants, wade up the little red streams
Heading for the mother-pool
Oh lord, it's cruel
Oh man it's hot
Oh man it's hot
And some of those ants they just climb to the spot
Who threw the first stone at Black Paul?

"Don't ask us", say the critics and the hacks
The pen-pushers and the quacks
"We just come to get the facts"
"We just come to get the facts"
Uh huh, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

Here is the hammer, that built the scaffold
And built the box
Here is the shovel, that dug the hole
In this ground of rocks

And here is the pile of stones
And for each one planted, God only knows
A blood-rose grown

Oh listen
These are the true Demon-Flowers
These are the true Demon-Flowers
Stand back everyone
Blood-black everyone
(Blood-black)
(Stand back)

Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
And who'll carry it up the hill?

"Not I", said the widow, adjusting her veil
"I will not drive the nail
Or cart his puppet-body home
For I done that one hundred times before
Uh, it's one hundred times or more
And why should ah dress his wounds?
When he has wounded my dress, nightly
Right across the floor"

Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
Who'll carry it up the hill?
Now who'll bury him in the black-soil?

From the woods and the thickets
Come the ghosts of his victims
"We love you"
"I love you"
And this won't hurt a bit

Outta my eyes was your rise to full glory
Spring up from the grope of life
Spring up, up, up, up, up, up, up up into death
Up, up, up, up, up inhale its breath
Oh yes, Death favors those that favor death

Here is the stone, and this is the inscription it bare
"Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper
But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There"

And, and, and, and all the angels come on down
And all you men and women crowd around
And all the old widows weeping into their skirts
And all the little gals and the little boys

And the scribes with their pens poised
All the hullaballoo, all the noise
All the hullaballoo, all the noise
All of the hullaballoo, all of the noise

Clears his throat of black blood
Black Paul singing like a lonely boy

Well, I have cried one thousand tears
And I've cried a thousand tears, its true
And the next stormy night you know
That I'm still cryin' them for you

Well, I had a gal she was so sweet
Red dress, and long red hair hangin' down
And heaven just ain't heaven
Without that little girl hangin' around

Well, if I laugh, ya know I've been a bad-man
But Lord knows ah done some good things too
But I confess, my soul will never rest
Until you've, until you've built
Until you've built a box for my gal, too
My gal, too
My gal, too

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): Nicholas Cave